Archive for September, 2008

A new beginning for a special bunny.

Thursday, September 25th, 2008

A note from Marcy, founder of SaveABunny:

Meet Aurora, a new rescue at SaveABunny. People often ask me how I choose a name for a rabbit and why we rescue special needs rabbits.

I met Aurora the day after she arrived at the SF shelter. She was extremely emaciated at 4.4 pounds, when she should weigh at least 6.5 pounds. Her backbone and hip bones protruded from crusty, matted and filthy fur. She had large welts and sores on her feet and lip from being encased in a wire cage. Her left eye had a cataract. She was and is a mess. However, she’s a loving, sweet mess that chatters her teeth with pleasure when stroked and lowers her head for love and attention.

Aurora was the Roman Goddess of the Dawn. The transition between dark and light, night and day has significant spiritual significance. Dawn is the time for rebirth, reawakening and new beginnings. It doesn’t get much darker for bunnies and other sentient beings who have been horribly neglected. This little girl was clearly at the threshold of life and death. Without care she would die. Without rescue she would be euthanized.

Do we take her knowing that she will require extra time and care? Finding a forever home for a bunny like Aurora can be very challenging. We don’t know how old she is. One of her front teeth is broken. We think she broke her tooth struggling to free herself from a horrendous small-caged experience. That’s the story her feet tell with their sores and pain. Her escape likely saved her life.

When I first met Aurora at the shelter she came over to greet me barley able to stand. It was touching. I truly believe that animals recognize the energy of someone who is there to help them. I asked her if she wanted rescue or was ready to go–OK with being euthanized at the shelter.I just didn’t know if we would be able to find the resources–space and financial to help her. There are just so many bunnies all the time who need help. She seemed at peace with whatever her fate would be.

We had an adoption of Mr. Magoo, another special needs rabbit, so that freed up a space for a special needs rescue. So Aurora came to SaveABunny for healing–whatever that meant. It might be hospice. Or, she can find a home. She seems older and unlikely to be spayed. When she is stronger we will consider that.

Whatever happens from this point on she will be safe and loved. She will never need to worry again about people being cruel. She will have soft fleece in her cage, healthy food and people who care for her.

Already she is looking much better, eating well and grooming herself. She is happy. she is grateful.

Sadly we have to pick and choose the bunnies like Aurora to save. There are so many needing help every day. Our group already takes many rabbits who have no other rescue options.

It is both heartbreaking and soul inspiring work. To see a wounded little being recover, regain trust and thrive is a miracle that I think all people should experience at least once. It is deep,deep work that is life-changing.

If you have not lived with a special needs rabbit, I encourage you to contact us about fostering and learning more.

You will know what it means to be needed and truly make a difference!

The numerous unexpected benefits of living with a rabbit.

Sunday, September 21st, 2008

I started volunteering for SaveABunny way back in May. I learned everything I could about rabbits, I wrote about rabbits, I even did outreach events with rabbits once or twice, feigning rabbit expertise. I read all the other bunny blogs. But I have never, ever, lived with a real live rabbit. Until three weeks ago.

As with most things worth learning, one can spend a lifetime (or at least five months) studying a subject, but to really understand it, you have to do it yourself. Of course, cheating doesn’t hurt.

So in case you haven’t had the pleasure, here’s a cheat sheet I made for you of those unexpected things you would probably only learn from living with a rabbit yourself:

1. You can do things with rabbits that make human company uncomfortable. For instance, sometimes I just sit and stare at my bunny while he eats.

2. Since they’re little and don’t have opposable thumbs, they eat every vegetable a different way. It’s eternally fascinating. Yesterday I gave mine bok choy – today, broccoli. Sometimes I leave him trails of lettuce leaves just to see if he’ll follow them. He usually does.

3. They make great exercise machines. Just try catching one when he needs a nail trim.

4. You will never lose a staring contest as horrendously as you will to a rabbit. Your eyes will shrivel up and and fall out of their sockets in two sad piles of dust before your rabbit blinks. Not exactly a benefit, but a valuable experience nonetheless, if only for the massive amount of humbling you will receive.

5. You CAN’T leave a glass of wine on the floor next to a rabbit. They’re worse alcoholics than I am. (At least mine is.) I don’t know how this is a benefit, except that leaving glasses of wine on the floor was probably a bad idea in the first place, and this is an extra reminder not to do it.

6. They actually are constantly doing something cute. You sort of expect it, but then when it actually happens it’s a little bit amazing. I don’t think any other adult animal has an equal cuteness capacity. Maybe pandas.

7. They have a warm spot right behind the ears. When you rub it, it releases pheromones that make you sleepy and hypnotize you so that you keep rubbing. I’m pretty sure on this one.

8. You will spend a lot more time laying on the floor. This will inevitabely result in more frequent vaccumming, extending the life of your carpet and saving you money.

9. You will gain a new appreciation for all green vegetables. Watching someone else get so excited about them does make them more appealing. As a result, you will live a longer, healthier life.

10. Your capacity for forgiveness will increase exponentially.

In conclusion, if you haven’t yet adopted or fostered a rabbit, I highly recommend it.

Fundraiser Night at Hobson’s on Haight

Saturday, September 13th, 2008

Join us for booze and bunny-saving!

Date: Wednesday, September 17, 2008 8:30pm – 12:00pm
Location: Hobson’s Choice: 1601 Haight Street at Clayton, San Francisco (

What: New Bar Every Other Wednesday (A Group of Fun-loving, Creative People Making A Difference– One Bar At A Time!
When: Wednesday, September 17 – 8:30 PM – Midnight
Where: Hobson’s Choice
  1601 Haight Street at Clayton
  San Francisco, CA
Why: Raising $$ For Rescued Rabbits In Need At SaveABunny

Hobson’s Choice has generously offered to donate $5 for each person that comes out on Wednesday, September 17th to support SaveABunny, from 8:30 – Midnight. Your presence at Hobson’s Choice would be a great way to meet fun, like minded people, share your love for rabbits and raise much needed funds for SaveABunny. There will be a surprise guest. We hope to see you there!!

100 people = Hobson’s will give a $500 donation to SaveABunny
200 people = Hobson’s will give a $1,000 donation to SaveABunny
300 people = Hobson’s will give a $1,500 donation to SaveABunny

It’s fun and it’s easy to help cute little rabbits!!! Who can say no? Hobson’s specializes in RUM. They have the largest selection of any bar in the country. Their collection of rums changes weekly and is dependent on such variables as availability, popularity, and staff consumption!

See you there!

Rabbit vs. Litterbox

Tuesday, September 9th, 2008

As anyone who has been around rabbits for more than half an hour knows, our furry little friends are extremely effecient at filling their main ecological niche: turning plants into fertilizer.

But we love them anyway. That’s why it can be so frustrating trying to litterbox train them. Litterbox training a rabbit is a process mostly unique from what other pet owners go through, in some ways easier and in some ways harder.

Easier, because rabbits are weirdly OCD. Once they start doing something a certain way, they keep doing it that way. So the trick is to get them to do want you want.

And it’s harder, because getting a rabbit to do what you want is completely impossible.

So how do you do it? Honestly I’m still not sure. I’ll share what I read, and what I attempted, but in the end, I’m convinced my rabbit just ended up litterbox training himself.

The first thing I unpacked when I moved to Albuquerque was my new bunny friend, Ellis Jose Francisco. I let him out of his icky cage that smelled like a three-day road trip, deciding then and there that I never wanted to put him back in it. Since I hadn’t exactly told management that I was going to have a small animal running around the house all day, I decided to keep him out of sight in my bedroom. Plus, I was lonely.

I put down a little rug, on which I placed his litterbox, some hay, and a water dish.

He promptly peed in the corner. So, having remembered that the litterbox should usually just go where the rabbit likes to go, I cleaned the pee and placed the box directly on top of the soapy spot.

He peed in box. All was good! Until I wasn’t looking. Then he peed in the other corner.

Not having two litterboxes for him, I cleaned it up and hoped for the best. That didn’t work out too well.

You see, rabbits are very territorial. They mark exactly where they think their home is. And there’s no mistaking it once they do. Fortunately, I had modern veterinary medicine on my side and he was nuetered. (As every adopted rabbit should be!) This not only made him less hormonally inclined to pee everywhere, but it made his pee smell better, too. Relatively.

I realized that after having free run of my room, he’d decided it was, in fact, his room.

I should explain that at this time, I also came down with a nasty sinus infection. I was barely capable of driving to Target to buy Puffs, much less developing a litterbox strategy. Little Ellis Jose peed wherever he wanted, including on my bed, (fortunately I was sleeping on an air mattress, which only required a sheet change and brief scrub with an eco-friendly cleaning wipe,) and all I could do was cough negatively at him.

As a side note, please don’t tell my building management this story. That would be bad for me.

While stuffing my only bottom sheet into the washing machine for the third time in two days, I glanced down at the cage. I’d stashed it in the laundry room until I figured out which key opened the outside storage closet. (Turns out, none of them open it! I’m still waiting for that one.) Since I couldn’t smell anything anyway, I momentarily convinced myself it was fine, and brought it into the bedroom. The litterbox went inside. It was a terrible arrangement, however, and I ended up putting everything and the rabbit on a mat in the laundry room.

This actually worked really well. Since my laundry room has laminate floors that are impossible for furry little bunny feet to gain traction on, Ellis Jose stayed entirely on the mat. I opened the cage door so he could come and go (so to speak) as he pleased. He consistently peed in the litterbox, and almost solely pooped in it so long as I kept it clean.

But just to be safe, I resorted to the one thing I always dread resorting to: Instructions.

That’s right, when you adopt a bunny from SaveABunny, you get an instruction booklet. At least I did. I think it’s $2 extra, but if Marcy has anything to do with it, you’ll end up with one whether you asked or not.

Just as I’d hoped, there were two pages about litterbox training in there. Since a) it’s an entire two pages, and b) you should really put down the two bucks for a copy, I won’t recount everything I read in there. But I’ll share what was most valuable to my experience:

1. Your rabbit needs a place that’s just his. (An icky, road-trip-smellin’ carrier cage does the trick in a pinch – just, uh, try to clean it first. And DON’T put faux-sheepskin liner mats in the washing machine. It won’t be pretty. Trust me.) In order to make your rabbit feel like the place is just his, it’s essential that you not force him in or out of it. If he’s not already terrified of the place, it’s pretty easy to herd him into it. Do that if you need to. I just leave the cage door open with a tiny mat clipped to it, and it makes a nice ramp. He goes in there when he’s mad, scared, bored, or (yay!) has to pee.

2. Keeping some hay in the litterbox seems to help.

3. Be patient. I can’t tell you how to do this. I failed. But I’m sure things will work out better if you can pull it off.

4. Keep the litterbox clean. Seriously. I change it almost every day but it’s extremely worth it. It’s good for about two or three pees and then he stops using it.

The laundry room situation lasted about five days. I ended up feeling bad for him because the mat he had was so small, and he couldn’t get any sunlight (which, I don’t know about him, but is very important for my mental health,) and he looked really bored all the time. I gave him two paper bags to play with (more on those in a future blog), and I laid down a table cloth for him to get across the kitchen to the living room where he could run around, but he stopped using it after the first time and refused to leave his tiny mat. I had to find a better way.

On my first day at my new job, I found a giant stack of carpet tile scraps. If you’re not familiar with this seeming oxymoron, a carpet tile is a rubber tile, in regular tile size and shape, with carpet on one side. Carpet = traction. Rubber = pee-proof.

I made off with half of them. The receptionist gave me a funny look on my way out the door, but I had a plan! Sort of.

After trying many positions and layouts and many variations on those positions and layouts, I ended up with a carpet-tiled area in the living room, under a window, with ample room for the cage carrier in the corner, chew toys, paper bags, hay, a water dish, and even a little bit of hopping around. The plan was to get an x-pen to put around the area, but by the time I was finished with my creation, the pet store was closed, so, with high hopes but low expectations, I just let Ellis Jose run free in the living room for the time being. It’s not like I had any furniture yet anyway. I had one lamp, but the cord and plug were strategically hidden behind two boxes. And I had plenty of eco-friendly all-purpose cleaner.

After some momentary confusion, Ellis Jose became a very happy bunny. He now had the entire living room to run around in! And because he was happy, and he hadn’t peed on the floor yet, I was happy too.

I let him run free while I was gone the next day at work, thinking I would stop at PetSmart for an X-pen on the way home. I forgot, of course. But when I got home, my carpet was happily pee-free. He had somehow become litterbox trained.

I ended up buying an x-pen anyway for when the washing machine repair person gets here. I haven’t used it yet – which is both good and bad.

So take what you will from my story, if you managed to find anything worthwhile. Every bunny is different, so if you find something else that works, by all means go with it. And share, please!

Or if all else fails, read the instructions.

Confessions chapter 4: Rabbit names.

Saturday, September 6th, 2008

Duty number 2 on my road trip, (after getting us all to Albuquerque alive,) was finding a name for my new bunny friend. I don’t want to insult the wonderful volunteer who named him Chewy (whoever you are – it is a cute name), but with my overactive imagination, a name like Chewy for a rabbit starts to fall into the same category as Stringy or Medium Rare. Plus, I knew a guy in middle school named Chewy and he was lame.

My road-trip buddy Simin and I both figured something would inspire a name somewhere between San Francisco and Albuquerque. We read road signs, town names, bridge names, and wash names. We passed Joshua trees but he didn’t seem like a Joshua. We went through Wasco, California (where we got the air conditioner fixed,) but he definitely wasn’t a Wascolly Wabbit. We drove through Bakersfield, Tehachapi, Boron (Borox capital of the world!), Hinkley, Barstow, Dagget, Ludow, Needles, Topock and Yucca. None of the names seemed right. We stopped to take pictures of an unbelievably fabulous sunset, but none of the many colors in it were a fitting name for my white-and-gray bunny.

On the first night we stayed in Kingman, Arizona. Having learned in Wasco that my bunny fit very well in a canvas bag, I avoided any possible no-pets rule by carrying him into our room Paris-Hilton-style, gently pushing his curious fuzzy head back into the bag. No one was the wiser. I put him on a towel in the bathtub with some hay and a cup of water, and he flopped down happily. What a cute bunny!! I brushed him a little and asked him what I should name him. He stared at me, chewing hay. (Chewy – I get it now. It is a totally cute name for a rabbit. Oh, well, too late.) I did briefly consider naming him Hay… but naming an animal after what it ate seemed wrong. What if we named children things like Sweet Potato and Cheerio? Or Hamburger? Or Banana Cream Pie? (…That would be kind of funny actually.)

Well, back to business. The next day, we drove though Seligman, Ash Fork, Williams, then made a detour to the Grand Canyon (which was ironically foggy) and went though Cameron, stopped briefly outside Tuba City to look at some dinosaur tracks (Brontosaurus could have been a pretty great name,) then passed through Hoteville, Polacca, Kearns Canyon, and Window Rock. All remarkably bad names for a living creature.

The countryside was beautiful and inspiring. It made me want to paint and take pictures – but it failed to inspire a name for my rabbit.

We crossed the New Mexico border drawing a blank.

(Did you know I’m a writer? Like a professional writer. Like they pay me to come up with names for things. It was getting embarrassing that I couldn’t come up with a name for my own pet rabbit.)

Outside of Gallup it was starting to get dark. We were only two hours from Albuquerque. We were all tired and I was mildly nauseous from a 7-layer burrito I’d gotten at a drive-through. We were kind of sad that the road trip was almost over. And I missed San Francisco. I missed all my bars in the Tendernob. I missed Geary street. And O’farrel street. And Leavenworth street. And Jones street. Was my bunny a Jones? I looked at him. He was sitting there all sleepy looking handsome, but definitely not rugged. Jones was wrong.

My first apartment was at Ellis and Jones, right in the heart of the Tenderloin. I loved that place. I’ve wanted to use the name Ellis for a long time, because it was also my grandfather’s name. It has extra meaning for me. But it’s such an old-fashioned name, and it sounds kind of like Alice if you’re not paying attention. He needed something else in there.

45 minutes outside of Albuquerque, I named him Ellis Jose Francisco.

But I usually call him, “What a cute bunny!!!!”

Confessions, chapter 3: How NOT to go on a road trip with a rabbit.

Friday, September 5th, 2008

I’ve discovered, since deciding to move there, that most people have no idea where Albuquerque is. I can’t really judge, though – I recently had to ask which cities the Twin Cities were. I’m still not sure which state they’re in.

Just in case you’re not sure, Albuquerque is in New Mexico, just south of Santa Fe, a day’s drive east of Phoenix, and 5,314 feet above sea level. To get there from San Francisco, it’s about a 15 hour drive (that’s if you don’t stop for snacks, gas, repairs, or a detour to the Grand Canyon) through America’s vast, dry, southern deserts. You pass through some of the most beautiful parts of the country on your way – but they’re also some of the hottest.

I was about to undertake this trip with my friend Simin and my new bunny, Chewy. I had a full tank of gas and an entire apartment boxed up in the back of a van I had bought the day before. It was 7am and foggy in San Francisco. We hit the road.

Central California is a beautiful land. Rolling hills, dotted with little oak trees, scattered with farms – then 9am hits and it starts to get hot. We pulled over and picked up some water. All good.

Then 10am hit and it was hotter than the fiery pits of hell. Air conditioner time!

Did I mention I had just bought this van the day before?

The vents were blowing hot air. We fiddled with the controls. Hot air. We gave it time to warm up (so to speak). Hot air.

We fiddled with the controls some more.

Hot air.

I had done some pretty extensive research about taking a rabbit on a road trip, and the one thing everyone said was, “Don’t let your rabbit overheat!”

I looked over at my little bunny. Of all the worst-case scenarios that had popped into my head, (I’m good at those, remember,) the air conditioner failing me had not been one of them. I had sudden flashes of what an expression of utter disappointment would look like on Marcy’s face. If I killed my first rabbit only 12 hours after getting him I would never forgive myself. And he was all cute and stuff.

We pulled into the first store we came across (which was another 30 horrifying, sweat-soaked miles) and bought a giant bag of ice. I put it in Chewy’s carrier with him. He made friends with it real quick.

Simin and I realized that we weren’t even close to the Mojave desert yet and the heat would only get worse. We had to get the stupid air conditioner fixed or we could all die. (That’s what I was thinking anyway – Simin was very rational and actually having a good time. Me – I was worst-case-scenario-ing my brains out.)

We pulled into a tiny, dusty shack off the freeway that looked like it might be a repair shop. It was – but they didn’t fix air conditioners. They pointed us to the guys down the street.

No luck. “Go about 20 miles that way – they can probably do it.” We wondered how anyone survived out here with no one that could fix an air conditioner. Why be a mechanic at all if you can’t fix one stupid air conditioner WHEN YOU LIVE IN THE DESERT??

Ok, so we drove 20 miles “that way” and came across and auto parts store. They seemed unreasonably busy for being in the middle of nowhere, but one employee suggested we buy a kit and install it ourselves. Considering I haven’t opened the hood of a car since I was 16, this seemed like a bad idea. But, he couldn’t tell us if there was even a repair shop open anywhere around, so we went ahead and bought it. He said he would show us how to install it as soon as he was done with the next customer. I imagined poor little Chewy sitting out there in the van with a melting bag of ice. We left.

Another few blocks down we came across a Big O Tires. I ran inside and asked them if they knew anyone who fixed air conditioners. They pointed us another couple of blocks to J & J auto repair. It was a slightly larger, slightly less dusty shack than the ones 20 miles back. But, they could fix my air conditioning and they had a nice cool office. I stuffed Chewy in a canvas bag with some hay and a water bottle and went inside.

At this point in the story, I’m pretty sure all of the SaveABunny volunteers are absolutely horrified with me, and Marcy is regretting ever having subjected one of her helpless rabbits to my utter incompetence. So why am I blogging about it? Firstly, I have nothing else to do right now, I’m sick, my only friend here is working tonight, my new job doesn’t start until Monday, and I live alone with a rabbit. I could be unpacking but I don’t really have any shelves yet to put my stuff on. Most importantly, though, I hope this tale of danger and woe provides a lesson to all you readers out there: MAKE SURE YOUR FREAKING AIR CONDITIONER WORKS BEFORE YOU START DRIVING THROUGH THE DESERT IN AUGUST.

Back to the story. Our mechanic Jose (one of the two Js, I assume,) dug around in the engine for about an hour and a half while I sat in the cool office with a very cute, very curious, and slightly damp bunny. I gave him little Styrofoam cupfuls of water. He peed on me. We bonded.

The moment that Simin came in and told me the air conditioner worked, I was elated. I joyfully slapped down $200 and we were back on track. I left the half-melted bag of ice on the sidewalk (I’m pretty sure it sublimated) and replaced it with a fluffy dry towel to keep my bunny comfy.

Next stop: the Mojave Desert. Thank you, Jose.

Confessions, chapter 2: Finding a bunny friend.

Thursday, September 4th, 2008

I emailed Marcy about a month ago with some mixed news.

The good part was that I was moving into my own apartment and I could finally adopt my first bunny!
And the bad news? The apartment was in Albuquerque, New Mexico.
Of course I could keep writing the SaveABunny blog even if I moved to sub-Saharan Africa thanks to my trusty hp pavilion zv5000 widescreen laptop (you’re welcome, hp. Donations are appreciated) and I don’t really do anything for SaveABunny except write the blog anyway. So the bad news wasn’t really that bad.
And the good news was kind of awesome. I was finally getting my fist bunny!

So which bunny? I thought for awhile that it might be better to adopt a rabbit from an Albuquerque shelter, since there is no SaveABunny out there to help make sure the rabbits don’t get euthanized. But after looking at the local shelters there, I realized none of them had any rabbits. They only accept cats and dogs. I found one shelter in a neighboring town that had two or three rabbits, but I had no way of knowing if they were healthy, spayed or neutered, or if anyone at that shelter knew anything about rabbits. I guess I could have just called and asked, but after thinking about it, I decided I’d rather adopt from SaveABunny and free up a space for a needy Bay Area rabbit.

I wanted one that wasn’t likely to get adopted – but not a special needs rabbit. I’ve never had a rabbit before and I don’t (yet!) have unlimited income for vet bills. Especially considering my moving costs.

Since the hardest rabbits for SaveABunny to adopt out are the white ones with pink eyes, I went up for a grooming party and spent some time with four white/pink-eyed cuties. Mr. Pinkerton, Chewy, Lionel Barrymore, and Moonlight. I also spent some time grooming Noir, who as you might guess, is a black bunny, with non-pink eyes. I brushed enough fur out of her coat to put Bebe out of business.

Moonlight is a beautiful white rabbit. After grooming him for five minutes and starting to really like him, I found out that he has a spine defect and is a special needs rabbit. If he’s picked up and held wrong he could easily break his back. Having only picked up about three rabbits ever, I figured he was not for me.

Lionel Barrymore is another gorgeous white rabbit. He has a pretty white face and a cute little white nose, and is just a little bit traumatized but still very sweet. After being on my lap for awhile he started to get curious and sniff me out, and I became slowly enamored with him. Marcy told some lingering volunteers later that night that he lets out a bone-chilling scream every time the vacuum cleaners come on. He went to a foster home that night.

Chewy is laid-back white bunny with dark gray-brown Siamese markings on his nose, ears, tail and paws. And of course, big pink and blue eyes. He has these extra eyelashes on the corners of his eyes that make him look either kind of sad, or kind of high. He reminded me of my first pet, Ivory, who was a terribly inbred Siamese cat who my mom gave me for my sixth birthday. I absolutely adored him. I didn’t spend a lot of time with Chewy, though, because it was the end of the night and I was already trying to decide between Lionel Barrymore and Mr. Pinkerton.

Mr. Pinkerton is an awesome bunny. In the short amount of time I spent with him I saw more personality than in any of the other bunnies. He was fearless and outgoing and absolutely presidential. (Think Bill Clinton meets Roger Rabbit.) Marcy didn’t want to adopt him out yet, but since I am a writer and everything, she hoped I would pick up the Mr. Pinkerton blog if I adopted him. Which I thought would be fun. But – and this is the horrible and honest truth – I was afraid that if anything happened to him, I would feel doubly bad because he is such an important bunny to the organization. Not that I expected myself to be an irresponsible or less-than-caring bunny owner, I just have a bad habit of always thinking of the absolute worst-case scenario for any situation. I’m not a pessimist –I just have a vivid imagination. It’s good for working in advertising – but bad for coming across as sane.

I went home undecided. For the next week I dreamed of what it would be like to live with each of these bunnies. I saw myself taking them to the park, to my new office, watching them run around the house and eat hay, and of course in the car on the long trip to Albuquerque. I thought the most about Mr. Pinkerton and Chewy.

The night before I hit the road, I still hadn’t decided. At 5:30 I bought a last-minute van for the move, and I immediately drove it up to SaveABunny. Priorities!

This time I had to make a decision. I sat in the middle of an X-pen with Chewy for a few minutes. He sat there ignoring me. I gave him a little pet on the head. He put his little chin to the floor – which in cat language definitely does not mean “pet me more,” so I thought he didn’t like me. But as it turns out that’s exactly what it means in bunny language. He was saying, “Here, I have a nice soft head for you to pet. Go on, pet away.” How sweet.

Then I spent some one-on-time with Mr. Pinkerton, which was really one-on-one-on-everything-else-in-the-room time. He was extremely friendly and curious about all of the other people in the room, and the x-pen wire, and the floor, and oh-look-at-that-over there, and hey-what’s-that and who knows what else. He was delightful.

I was torn. Chewy was sweet and vaguely familiar and very cute. Mr. Pinkerton had a personality I could impress my friends and coworkers with. But it was getting late and I had to go home and pack. It came down – and here is another example of how I am a shallow, lazy human being – to litterbox manners. Chewy had an impeccable cage. Mr. Pinkerton was kind of all over the place. Plus, I knew Mr. Pinkerton would find someone who just wouldn’t be able to resist his charm. His very own Monica Lewinsky, if you will. It was almost me. Sigh.

I packed up Chewy in the van and a few short hours later, we began our adventure together.